


Metal Heart

by EnigmaticDoctorScully



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: F/F, Post-Movie: The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Pre-Series: The Fall (2013), Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnigmaticDoctorScully/pseuds/EnigmaticDoctorScully
Summary: Stella Gibson had met this woman not two minutes ago, and while it wasn’t unusual for her to appreciate another woman’s body in as much detail as possible, there was something about this coroner that drew her in more than she was comfortable with. But given the cross dangling from her neck, she pushed the thought of trying to get her into bed from her mind.
Relationships: Stella Gibson/Dana Scully
Comments: 21
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What started as a little creative writing exercise very quickly turned into a multichapter WIP exploring a friendship loaded with sexual tension and more. This will be a very slow burn.
> 
> There will be no MSR on the page.
> 
> ******  
> Trigger/content warning for violent murder and fetal death.  
> ******  
> Massive thanks to my amazing betas DanaScullyMakesMeFeelAutopsyTurvy and gillyAnne for all the insights and the incredible support! Another roaring shoutout to lesbibianism for always lifting my spirits, and providing inspiration and science. You ladies are the best!

Droplets of rain hit her black blazer as Stella Gibson strode briskly towards the entrance of the Westminster Public Mortuary. The sky had been grey and gloomy all morning in an announcement of precipitation at any given moment, yet the Detective Superintendent had opted to leave the umbrella in her car in utter defiance. As the door slid open, she quickly shrugged her shoulders to rid her clothing of any residual water before flashing her ID at the receptionist who simply nodded at her in recognition. As her heels clicked against the tiled floor, creating a distant echo, she realized that it had indeed been a while since she had last set foot in this place.

While she enjoyed her current position and the power it brought her, she had to admit that she missed being in the thick of things. Coming to the mortuary in a rush of adrenaline brought on by the discovery of new evidence, a new piece of a puzzle that could be found anywhere at any time. Sometimes, she really wished she could sink her teeth into an investigation again. So when she had been assigned this fourteen day review at the height of the school holidays, when many of her colleagues with children were out of town, she had been glad for the change of scenery, so to speak. No budget meetings for a while. Stella Gibson was good at finding money in crevasses, shifting funds like bricks in a game of Tetris, but god, she despised budget meetings.

Besides, the pathologist she was here to see had only just taken the position, and this seemed like a great opportunity for her to introduce herself. She’d learned in her early days as a Detective Constable that a good rapport with coroners and forensic experts was vital to a successful investigation. The relationships she’d established with various pathologists over the years were an asset to her work, and she especially appreciated the mutual support amongst the women in the male-dominated environment. Knowing they all had to have worked at least twice as hard to get to wherever they were in their career simply due to their gender was an inevitable unifier; through any contention they might have on a case, at the end of the day, they could all agree that patriarchy really was a bitch.

Stella briskly rounded the corner into the hallway housing the coroners’ offices and scanned the name plates in passing as she walked down the long corridor. The recently retired Dr. Grimms, a skilled coroner with a persistent chauvinist streak, had been intimidated by her ability to field his misogynistic remarks, parry them with fencer’s precision; while she had had great respect for his forensic expertise, she was looking forward to not having to formulate a riposte to his every belittling attack, and found herself glad that he’d been succeeded by a woman.

Finally, at the far end of the hall, she found the plaque she was looking for and rapped her knuckles against the door beside it. She heard a dull thud on the other side of the door, an exclamation of ‘Shit!’ followed by a decidedly too friendly "Uh, come in!" in what sounded like an American accent. Stella pushed the door open and was met by the sight of auburn hair being decisively tucked behind ears with both hands, before said hands traveled down the front of the woman’s body to smooth out a wrinkle in her blouse.

"Is this not a good time?", Stella said, and it sounded more like a statement than a question. "No, no, no, it’s fine. But Jesus, you startled me," the redhead looked up at her, slightly disheveled yet entirely composed, and smiled, extending a hand, ‘Doctor Dana Scully.’

That distinctly rhotic ‘R’ and the dark, velar ‘L’- yes, Doctor Scully was definitely American, her sibilants and fricatives reminding Stella of Jodie Foster’s voice. "DSI Stella Gibson," she replied, the corners of her lips curving up into a half smile as she took the extended hand to shake it briefly. It was cold to the touch, but soft, like a cotton sheet left to dry on the patio overnight in spring. Their eyes met, and Stella was taken aback by the depths of blue she saw reflected back into her own. She kept her gaze on them, somehow unable to tear herself away, as if she were a seashell being sucked into the sea by a retreating wave at low tide.

After a long moment, the intensity was too much to bear even for her, and she averted her eyes to the floor, where she saw several books lying askew, and one wedged in the corner of an office chair standing in front of a bookshelf, forced open to the point its back might split in an instant. "I, um, apologize for the mess. The last of my books just arrived this weekend and I was putting them on the shelf when you knocked," the redhead said apologetically. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

Stella looked up again, taking in the figure in front of her. Defined shoulders covered by an olive green blouse with half-sleeves, adorned by wavy ends of auburn tresses, set like complementary tones in a symphony against creamy white skin, light freckles on the exposed skin between buttons left undone to create a plunge line, a small golden cross below prominent collarbones. Wearing her religious allegiance around her neck, how very American, Stella thought. She felt her hand twitch slightly, as if she wanted to reach out and touch the necklace, the waves cascading over viscose-covered shoulders, those clavicles. Her gaze went higher still, taking in an exquisite jaw line and plump lips painted a deep burgundy color that managed to set off both clothes and hair, a small nose that reminded her of her own somehow, until she finally met the deep ocean of Doctor Scully’s irises for the second time.

She steadied herself quickly with a conscious inhale, so as not to get lost at sea again, righting her posture ever so slightly in order to maintain her professionalism. "I’m supervising the Smith review, and was informed that you made similar observations on a different autopsy that you wanted to discuss with us," Stella explained her presence in the corner office. A really nice office. Nice view. Of the redhead currently standing in front of her. The view she was currently very much enjoying - shit, she was staring at her.

She’d met this woman not two minutes ago, and while it wasn’t unusual for her to appreciate another woman’s body in as much detail as possible, there was something about this coroner that drew her in more than she was comfortable with. But given the cross dangling from her neck, she pushed the thought of trying to get her into bed from her mind. Rationally speaking, it was best not to engage in such thinking with a presumably religious female colleague. And she was trying her best to be rational right now. She could enjoy her from a distance, she told herself.

"Ah, yes, I have the autopsy results and my reports right here," Doctor Scully said, reeling Stella back into the moment, to the reason she was in her office, ‘Would you like to take a seat? We can go over them together?’

"Absolutely," Stella acquiesced. As the redhead made her way over to the bookshelf and bent down to retrieve one of the wayward books, Stella’s gaze followed her every move of its own volition, like a cat on a windowsill, zeroing in on a single leaf blown around by wind, led by instinct, completely entranced.

She was snapped back into the moment when she caught sight of the redhead’s feet, only covered in flesh-colored stockings, and couldn’t help but smirk. "Doctor Scully, were you standing on your office chair placing books on the shelf?", she said, her amusement not evident in her tone.

"Oh, um, yes - why?" the redhead looked up at her from her crouched position next to the chair.

"You’re not wearing any shoes."

"Didn’t want to get onto the chair in heels," she explained as she walked behind her desk. "And please, call me Dana." Stella watched her intently as she lifted one foot and then the other before straightening her back, now standing a few inches taller and looking more ethereal than before. She caught Stella’s gaze and gave a one-sided smile - the kind of smile that’s simultaneously self-deprecating and self-confident. A way to brush past awkwardness. As if the shoes had bestowed her professionalism, she cocked her head to the side expectantly. Right. Stella was here on business. They had an autopsy to discuss. Two autopsies, actually. And so, Stella grabbed the back of the office chair and swiftly pushed it in front of the desk. As she sat down, she felt something angular and rigid hit her lower back. Leaning forward, she pulled the culprit from behind and underneath herself. A worn-down hardcover copy of Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_ , the back now positively dented. She huffed a laugh, and held it up in front of her. "Seems I broke _Frankenstein_ ’s back."

*****

Dana Scully had been engrossed in the motions of placing book after book on the shelf, sliding her hands along the backs of some that brought up old memories. The _Gray’s Anatomy_ she’d owned since med school, the 1966 first edition copy of Hurst’s _The Heart_ Daniel had gifted her. The knock on her door had startled her so much that she’d whipped around, the sentimental hardback of Frankenstein in her hand knocking a few books on the row down onto the floor with it.  
In a conscious effort to be Dana now, Scully had insisted Stella call her by her first name. Even after her years at Our Lady of Sorrows, it still didn’t come naturally to her, but this was a new chapter, a slate as clean and shimmery as the metal of an autopsy slab. She knew she would never be able to let that part of herself go - not that she wanted to - but Agent Scully was in her past. She had moved to London for a change of perspective, a new start, even if that new start involved her going back to her first passion, forensic pathology.

She was slightly disconcerted about the image she had presented when Stella walked into her office - books lying askew, her clothing twisted, feet unshod.

Now, making a deliberate effort to be her usual, contained self, she leaned over her desk and reached for the book in the Detective Superintendent’s hand. Almost unconsciously, she gripped the book close to where Gibson's hand was placed, briefly marvelling at the other woman’s strong wrist tendons, letting her gaze flick across the defined muscles in her extended lower arm, lingering on the pronounced brachioradialis. Her eyes shot up again when Stella’s thumb grazed the tip of her own. She felt a shiver down the back of her spine, and quickly cast her eyes to the floor, wondering if the Detective Superintendent had felt it, too.

Her handshake had been firm, assertive. Incredibly smooth skin conveying authority through decisively contracting muscles used to years of asserting themselves in the palms of masculine hands. Scully herself was no stranger to this kind of handshake - she knew for a fact that her own was just as commanding. She’d felt an instant connection when their hands had touched that first time, and this second, much shorter, contact left her feeling electrified. She had thought that her frazzled state following Stella Gibson’s arrival in her office was due to a surge of adrenaline from being startled and having dismounted the chair so quickly, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe it was the presence of the Detective Superintendent herself rather than her unexpected intrusion after all.

Scully couldn’t help but look down at Gibson’s hand again and wonder what reactions those fingers would elicit on other parts of her body. Her hand still felt tingly from their short touch. Scratch that, not just her hand - her whole body was buzzing. God, she hadn’t had thoughts like this about another woman since med school. Not this explicitly, at least. She really needed to pull herself together.

"It seems you did, Detective Superintendent," Scully said, turning the book over in her hands, pretending to examine it thoroughly, hoping to conceal her physical reaction to their touch.

"Stella." The corners of her mouth shot up slightly, not quite a smile or a smirk, yet Scully detected a glint in her eyes as she tilted her head to look at her. She felt her own lips broaden into a smirk, and defiantly held Stella’s inquisitive gaze this time.

Stella shrugged her blazer off her shoulders, still intently looking at Scully, as if she were trying to decipher her, and Scully found herself keeping eye contact as she sunk down into her office chair and watched as Stella gracefully settled in the square one on the other side of her desk. The blonde leaned back slightly, and put her left ankle on her right knee.

Scully was captivated by the presence in front of her. Honey blonde hair set against an open black blazer and matching slacks, a simple cerulean silk blouse in between, its wavy ends tickling the collars. The woman exuded breathtaking femininity and eminent authority. Her heels were much higher and less sensible than the ones Scully herself wore to work: sleek, black, impossibly elegant. Jimmy Choos, Scully guessed, possibly Manolos. Shoes that Scully wore on special occasions, but would have never donned on a work day, much less a day that promised rain. Stella wore them with the ease of everyday footwear.

Her gaze traveled back up to Stella’s face again, and their eyes caught each other, two gradations of blue connecting across the expanse of the desk, and when she looked away, Dana could feel Stella’s intense gaze lingering on her. Unwilling to back down from this cosmic dance, Scully’s eyes retraced their steps until they hit their mark again. On the periphery, brows shifted minutely - simultaneous invitation, acceptance and first dip. For a long moment, two blues danced in unison, neither moving off the axis, until Stella swung out.

"Soooo, the autopsy results?" she said, her eyes now dipped between the line of Scully’s chest and the edge of the wooden desk. Scully was gripped by the sound Stella’s voice, its even sultriness wrapping sharp British consonants in clouds of smoke. Had she not been seated already, Scully was certain she would have sunk to the floor by now, her joints melted under the white heat of Stella Gibson’s attention.

"Oh, of course," Scully opened the first folder and slid the photo on the top towards Stella. "Charlotte Clark, age 21, found dead in her home in Mayfair on June second, 2011. Ten stab wounds to the abdominal area," she said as she fanned out the crime scene pictures and pulled out a close-up of the victim’s wounds, "most likely inflicted by a serrated kitchen knife, or bread knife. She bled to death." The pictures and her report seemed to catapult Scully into her scientific comfort zone as she recounted her findings. "She was four months pregnant. I found the foetus during my initial examination, without any knife damage," she pointed to a section in her report that indicated the weight and size of the baby. Stella listened to her intently, nothing but "Mmmh" leaving her lips, but Scully saw recognition in her eyes as she recounted the details that were so harrowing and similar to the case Stella was currently reviewing. Ever the diligent scientist, she took her time to point out the parallels in her findings; yet she was certain the Detective Superintendent had gone over her report numerous times already.

Scully watched as Stella scooted to the edge of the chair and took a glossy eight-by-ten off the desk, spellbound by the graceful movements. She hadn’t felt this intense of an instant attraction to a woman in years - almost a decade, really. Granted, when she started at the Bureau, she’d been too caught up in the job at first to seriously date anyone, and then - well, then she had been too caught up with Mulder. The emotional bond between them had not left room for anyone else in her life, cementing itself soon after Bellefleur, Oregon - long before they had gotten romantically involved. Her single one night stand over the course of six years had almost gotten her killed. She had chosen loneliness time and again.

She had been attracted to women over the years, but always considered it more of an appreciation of a strong female presence - something she had desperately lacked during her time at the FBI - and not an actual desire she wanted to act upon. But as they sat there, the open autopsy reports between them, Dana found herself stealing glances at Stella frequently. Her eyes were a celestial blue, dotted with specks of grey, cotton clouds infiltrating a clear summer sky. The color of her blouse set them off beautifully, and Scully wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything more divine.

Scully straightened her back every time she caught herself looking across her desk, physically resisting the gravitational pull toward the other woman. Whenever Stella pointed to something in the report, Dana stared at her fingers, wondering what they could do, imagining the firm touch she’d felt during their handshake relocated to her own hips, her breasts, grazing that ticklish spot on her neck right below her hairline.

Composing herself, Scully reached for the other autopsy report. As her arm extended, Stella shifted in the chair again and leaned forward slightly, and Scully caught a glimpse of her freckle-covered chest and cleavage. Stella’s breasts were round, plush and bordered by impeccable lace that came into view at this angle. Scully swallowed hard as she reluctantly tore her eyes from Stella and continued, trying her best to contain the flush that was creeping up her own chest. She cursed inwardly and forced her rational, scientific self back to the forefront. Turned back to the controllable comfort of science.

"There’s no pattern to the abdominal stab wounds, but the fact that both victims were in their early stages of pregnancy might be significant. Between the similarities in the inflicted fatal wounds, and the proximity of their deaths, I think these murders might be connected," Scully said. She had had an inkling about the connection, and felt justified when she heard the Detective Superintendent voice the same theory.  
‘Do you think the killer is the father of both children?’ Stella looked up from the pictures, head slightly cocked, her eyes fixed on Scully’s again.

"He could be. I’ve ordered DNA testing on the fetuses-’ Scully answered, meeting Stella’s gaze, ‘but those will take a few days."

"Thank you," Stella said, her tone sincere but somewhat sweeter than before, a drop of bourbon rolling down a barrel tap. ‘They will be significant for case linkage. I appreciate your proactive approach on this.’ Scully looked at Stella again just as scant rays of sunshine filtered through the office window, hitting Stella’s face in a way that made her look even more ethereal. The sky outside must have cleared up - the light pierced her eyes, and they twinkled in reflection.

Scully felt herself smile. "You’re welcome. The sooner we have the results, the sooner we can close in on possible subjects. Or, well - you can." She averted her eyes to the floor, suddenly self-conscious about having possibly crossed a line. Her role was not that of an investigator, and Stella seemed like she would not hand over reins easily to anyone, least of all someone who was wholly out of place even if not out of her depth.

"It’s a team effort, Dana," was all she said, the corners of her mouth curling up into that half-smile again, the glint back in her eyes, before looking at her watch. "I’ve got to dash, but please don’t hesitate to call me with any further observations," she said as she stood and grabbed her blazer off the back of the chair. Scully watched, mesmerized, as Stella slid her toned arms into the sleeves and shrugged the jacket onto her shoulders. A moment passed where neither of them moved, both seemed tethered to the desk on either side like poles to the equator. Then, Stella extended her arm. "Thank you again, for your swift action on this. It was nice to meet you, Dana" - her tone seemed to have dropped half an octave, it was now even more smoky and alluring, and Dana felt a hint of a pulse between her legs from this simple change in pitch. "It was nice to meet you, too, Stella," was all she managed to get out, and she prayed to God that her reaction to Stella hadn’t been transparent throughout their interaction.

"I’ll let you get back to your books now. Please call me with any developments," Stella’s lower voice sounded out again, "I guess I’ll -" she paused for a second, and Scully saw her eyes roaming her face again, "... be seeing you." With that, Stella turned on her impossibly high stilettos and strode towards the door. "Yeah, I’ll see you around," Dana answered shyly, biting her lip and running her thumbs across her other fingers, fiddling, as she watched the Detective Superintendent’s flawless form distance itself from her one heel-click at a time. When she got to the door, Stella turned back, that half smile, half smirk playing at her mouth again.

"See you around, Dana," she said.

And then, she was gone. Scully stood shell-shocked behind her desk as she listened to the echo of Stella’s footfalls in the corridor, Stella’s smoky timbre still reverberating in her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another massive thank you to my two amazing betas, DanaScullyMakesMeFeelAutopsyTurvy and gillyAnne for all their insights, practical help and endless patience!

Stella left the mortuary in a daze, a million things going through her mind: Possible avenues of inquiry, retracing of the victims’ steps, coordination of interviews. She was glad to finally have a significant lead in her review, and was grateful that Dana had connected the dots in her autopsies. As soon as she got to the office, she would call the senior investigating officers on both cases and talk to them about the developments. She could only hope that their theory of shared paternity would be proven right, because case linkage would advance her review and give her reason to push for a task force with her boss. Yet, despite her investigative high, her mind kept wandering back to auburn wisps of hair that framed Dana’s face, to the way it had shimmered like molten copper as it was hit by rays of sunshine flowing through the window. To the way her brow had crinkled ever so slightly when she searched for a particular detail in her report. She’d had a physical reaction to the coroner as soon as she laid eyes on her; felt a connection between them the moment their palms clasped each other, catch and lever on a closing latch.

She’d been impressed with the way Dana had taken immediate action on the paternity tests. Sometimes, coroners were a bit slow for Stella’s taste, with their need to consult or tendency to worry about the chain of command. But Doctor Scully had felt so confident in her theory that she moved ahead despite the fact that she had only just started this position a few weeks ago. That took some balls, and, apparently, Dana definitely had them. Stella was certain the studious American was a force to be reckoned with, and if she had a weak spot, it was strong, confident women.

To say Stella was intrigued by Dana would be an understatement. She had caught the ostensibly demure woman glancing at her a few times, seen her eyes roam her face, her body. Stella had half wondered if the new coroner had been checking her out.

She hadn’t seen a ring on Doctor Scully’s left hand, but that didn’t mean anything - many pathologists didn’t wear their wedding bands while they were at work. For all she knew, Dana could be married, have a husband and children at home. Stella was never interested in anyone’s marital status; she took people as individuals, never did believe in all that ‘other half’ bullshit. She was an island, had been for as long as she could remember, and she always unconsciously assumed others were the same, even though she had a vague sense that that was not true, for most people. So why on earth did she care whether or not Dana was single? 

Stella enjoyed turning heads. She knew she had an effect on many women (if not all), no matter where they placed themselves on the Kinsey Scale. But she had the distinct sense this cross-pendant wearing medical examiner might be pretty far along that scale in a discouraging direction.

The more she thought about the cross nestled between the redhead’s clavicles, the bigger a mystery it became to her. She had spent a couple of semesters studying in the US, and it had always struck her how openly religious people were there. It wasn’t just celebrating Christmas, it was actual religiosity: weekly church attendance, Bible studies, and so on. She’d observed that Americans liked to display their religion openly, whether it was those ubiquitous fish decal car stickers, jewelry, or yard signs. Technically, England was a religious country, the head of state simultaneously the official head of the church, and while many practiced religion, they did so rather discreetly, and religion rarely made its way into politics. Paradoxically, the US had a separation of church and state manifested in its constitution, yet religion, and what they called religious freedom, played a major role in almost all political decisions.

Stella was very good at reading people, always had been. And Doctor Dana Scully seemed like a no-nonsense, pragmatic person, yet every time Stella’s eyes fell on the cross that dangled between those exquisite clavicles, she couldn’t help but wonder how the woman reconciled her belief in science with the faith in God that she so prominently displayed.

Given her hair color and fair complexion, Stella presumed she had Irish ancestry, and was therefore most likely Catholic; but regardless of affiliation, religion was apparently important enough to her to warrant a statement jewelry piece. And yet, Dana was also a scientist, evidently a firm believer in logic and reason; the dichotomy of it was utterly mystifying.

The cross pendant - and its wearer - hadn’t really left her mind during the short drive back to the Met Headquarters, and by the time she got to her office, Stella was in desperate need of focus and caffeine. She went through the motions of her office routine in an effort to get herself out of her jewelry-induced funk: threw her blazer over the back of her chair, booted up her computer, boiled her kettle, measured out four coffee spoons of grounds into her French press, blooming them before carefully pouring the rest of the water on top, then checked her email while the coffee brewed. Among them was one from Dana, containing the autopsy report and the promise to call her as soon as she heard from the lab. Stella had completely forgotten to ask her for a copy.

She called DCI Hunt, the senior investigating officer on the Clark case, to inform her she’d spoken with Doctor Scully. They briefly recapitulated details and arranged a meeting to discuss their investigative findings in detail the following day. Stella was already very familiar with all the case notes and interview recordings of the Smith case, but she decided to take yet another look at the pathology and forensic findings to add some notes while the details of her conversation with Dana were fresh in her mind. And, diligent as she was in her reviews, she decided to spend the rest of her day poring over crime scene footage and recordings again in preparation for her meeting with Hunt.

She knew running the DNA sequence would take a couple of days. She hated waiting. Had always hated it. She’d never been particularly patient when expecting lab results, but had learned throughout her career that properly executed forensics work was essential. Some things were worth a certain period of anticipation.

Yes, Stella thought. Some things simply couldn’t be rushed.

  
  


****

  
  


Scully stood rooted next to her desk for a few minutes after Stella left her office, before realizing that she had forgotten to provide Stella with a copy of her autopsy report. After quickly emailing it to her, she cleared her desk of the clutter, collecting the pages and crime scene photographs into neat piles before placing them back in their respective folders. 

As she swept her gaze across the desk again, she caught sight of the copy of _Frankenstein_ , and smiled to herself. She picked the book up and ran her hand along its broken back, remembering the sensation she’d felt when her fingers had touched Stella’s as she’d handed it over. The short touch had elicited a reaction in her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, and her body tingled at the memory of it. Stella Gibson had sparked something in her. The woman was incredibly attractive, and she exuded an energy that was both empowering and calming. And incredibly sexy. Scully internally scolded herself for letting her mind wander into that territory again. She’d had enough workplace romances for a lifetime and a half, and besides, she wasn’t sure she was over Mulder just yet. 

She busied herself with putting the rest of the books on the shelves, and soon got lost in the repetitive motions again, as her thoughts returned to the Detective Superintendent. Judging by her shoes alone, Stella had a sense of fashion. Her suit had looked intensely elegant, and Scully had marveled at how the silk shirt shimmered whenever she moved. The closely tailored fit and sharply pressed lapels conveyed her power yet emphasized her femininity, and Scully couldn’t deny she was in awe of Stella for walking that fine line so effortlessly.

Scully had always made sure her clothes were sensible, and practicality always came first. She’d started off at the Bureau wearing kitten heels and pantyhose, but an endless rota of hours-long autopsies standing over gurneys, and cross-country trips running after Mulder - often literally - on his paranormal quests and anti-authoritarian jaunts had moved her to favor tube socks with flat work boots or soft sneakers, whenever she could get away with it. Also, her eye for the sartorial had taken an embarrassingly long while to develop. She was pretty sure Stella hadn’t worn oversized suits with giant shoulder pads in the early 90s. 

When she had put the last book in its proper place on the shelf, she got off the chair, slipped her shoes back on and crossed the room. Having a bookshelf filled with medical books in a proper office felt like a major building block to her new life in London, and as she took a step back to admire her work, she was overcome with a satisfying sense of completion: the final twist of a Rubik’s Cube. This had been a good decision. The right thing to do. She had needed to step away from pediatric surgery, from the physical as well as mental toll her time at Our Lady of Sorrows had taken on her. The distance she had put between herself and all the trauma she’d experienced in DC - and all over the US - felt somewhat liberating.

She’d never really felt at home anywhere. Sure, she’d always made sure her apartments and later the house were places that felt like home, but she’d never felt tied to any particular city. Too much of her childhood had been spent being uprooted and having to start all over again. She’d never had many friends, and prided herself on her chosen independence. Even after she and Mulder had started a life together after he’d been gone for so long, she had always been careful not to become too dependent on him, and when they had separated, she’d realized that she didn’t need anyone but herself. She missed him sometimes, but probably more out of habit than anything else - he’d been part of almost her entire adult life, after all. They had ended things amicably, still talked on a regular basis. In fact, he had been the one to encourage her on this career change. And now here she was, in a new country, starting a new job, and she was excited to see what life in London had in store for her.

  
  
  


****

  
  


Two days later, Scully had just gotten out of the autopsy bay when she received the phone call she’d been waiting for. She thanked the lab technician for her quick work before hanging up and taking a deep breath, then dialing Stella Gibson’s number.

“Gibson,” the Detective Superintendent’s gravelly voice came from the other end of the line, sounding even huskier over the phone.

“Hi Stella, it’s Dana Scully,” she reintroduced herself.

‘Hi, Dana,’ came Stella’s response.

“I got the lab to rush the sequencing. The foeti do share a DNA strand that indicates with some degree of certainty that they are indeed siblings.”

Stella felt a rush of adrenaline release into her body upon hearing those words from Dana. They had a lead. 

“I had the techs run the DNA through the database already, but no match came up. It’s not conclusive given we don’t have the full profile, but it isn’t promising either,” Dana sighed.

“Well, we have our theory confirmed. That gives me something to work with,” Stella said, her tone even and calm. Then, after a slight pause, she added, “Thank you, again, for making the initial connection and acting so swiftly.”

“I was just doing my job,” Scully replied, brushing off Stella’s repetition of gratitude.

“Believe me, not many coroners are so quick on their feet,” Stella said and suppressed a smirk as her mind flashed to the image of Dana’s almost-bare feet on her office floor, and she could hear Scully huff a laugh on the other end, “and this truly is a breakthrough for both cases, it could have taken us weeks to catch it if it weren’t for you.”

“I merely saw similarities, it’s what I was trained to do. And I’m as dedicated to doing my part in solving these cases as you are,” Scully said, her voice soft yet determined. 

The line went silent for a few moments, as Stella contemplated her next words. She considered whether she should even ask, briefly worried Dana might take it the wrong way, wondered what she would do if she didn’t; reconsidered what the right and the wrong way might be in this case anyway. Then again, she always did what she liked, and she usually got what she wanted. Fuck it, she thought.

“We could grab a coffee later, if you like. Discuss theories,” she said, half-expecting a no for an answer.

“I’d like that,” Dana said.

  
  


*****

The café Stella had suggested was in Belgravia, and as Dana rounded the corner, she spotted waves of blonde at the other end of the street. Stella’s head was bowed as she walked, and as she came closer, Scully saw that she was typing on her phone, and she took a moment to appreciate her slowly approaching form without being noticed. The Detective Superintendent’s strides were long despite her petite form, and Scully marvelled at the way the woman’s hips swayed ever so slightly with every step. Her black slacks had a slightly wider cut, and the fabric billowed over her black heels. The distance between them had closed just enough for Scully to make out that the oat-colored blouse the blonde was wearing was silken before Stella looked up and immediately caught Dana’s eyes. 

“Hey. Sorry I’m late,” Stella greeted her, tucking her phone into her pocket.

“No need to apologize, I only just got here as well,” Dana answered, smiling shyly. Part of her wanted to reach out and hug Stella, and she swiftly burrowed her hands in her pants pockets to keep herself from initiating any physical contact. 

“It’s good to see you,” Stella said, and Scully saw a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place in the gaze that she directed at her. “Shall we?” the blonde asked and strode past the outdoor seating and towards the open door, half turning when she didn’t hear Dana’s footsteps behind her. She saw how the redhead slowly licked her lips, eyes downcast in her direction. She seemed almost lost in contemplation before she lifted her chin and confidently followed her.

Once inside, Scully scanned the menu board for coffee options and had just settled on an iced Americano when she heard Stella order exactly that. She probably shouldn’t order the same thing, she thought. This wasn’t a date. It was coffee between colleagues. When the barista asked for her order, she made a split-second decision and rattled off the words “Iced skinny sugar free vanilla latte, please” while making eye contact with the smiling woman on the other side of the counter. She smirked as she punched the order into the cash register. 

Stella successfully suppressed a chuckle at Dana’s coffee order, but couldn’t resist a little jab as soon as the redhead turned towards her.

“What, no extra pump?”, she asked, smiling smugly at the doctor.

Dana huffed, but took the joke in stride.

“No,” she said, “that’s overkill.”

“Overkill, huh?” Stella asked, clearly tickled.

“Way too sweet,” Scully clarified before her eyes met Stella’s. Judging by the amusement she saw there, she might as well have just donned a towering Uncle Sam stars-and-stripes novelty hat.

“What?” she asked, holding Stella's gaze while tilting her head slightly.

“Hmmm,” the Detective Superintendent hummed, a smirk playing across her lips, “It’s just very … American of you.” 

“I’ll be sure to order a long black next time,” Dana said and chuckled. The sound was unlike any Stella had heard before, and she wanted to hear it again as soon as it had subsided.

“Want to sit outside?” Stella queried as they took their drinks, and raked her gaze across Dana’s face, taking in the laugh lines that lingered around the corners of her mouth. The redhead started to move back towards the door, but Stella decided to place her hand between Dana’s shoulder blades to guide her out anyway. She had seemed slightly hesitant when they’d entered the café, and Stella wanted to make her feel at ease as much as she wanted to ascertain control of this coffee date. Only this wasn’t a date. Of course. She didn’t do dates. This was just coffee. They had a case to discuss. She guided Dana towards a table underneath a parasol, guessing that the redhead would prefer the shade. Dana took off her cadet grey blazer as she sat down across from her, and Stella was transfixed by the sheer beauty that radiated from Dana dressed in the slacks of her two-piece pantsuit and a simple white cotton blend T-shirt, the cross pendant placed visibly over the fabric.

About twenty minutes passed in comfortable conversation about the current state of the Smith case, with Doctor Scully shifting her seat one to follow the shadow. A group of teenage girls walked past them into the café and Dana stopped speaking mid-sentence, not wanting to discuss details of stab wounds in their presence. Stella grabbed their plastic cups that only contained shrunken pieces of ice at this point and wordlessly walked inside after the teenagers. 

  
  


Scully smiled lightly to herself, wondering how on earth she had met yet another person who would walk off on a mission without explanation, but reasoned there was only so much one would go inside a coffee shop for. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs out, grateful for the change in position, since she hadn’t even really moved her feet much for fear of accidentally brushing them against Stella’s legs that had been very close to her own under the table. The other woman’s guiding touch earlier had calmed her as much as it had excited her, and she wondered how deliberate of a gesture it had been for Stella. She seemed just as guarded as Scully was herself, not prone to physical contact with a stranger. And she _was_ practically still a stranger to her. As she mulled over the possible significance of the hand between her shoulder blades, she saw Stella come back out with a new cup in each hand, a close-lipped smile appearing on her face as she approached their table. 

“Thought I’d get you a proper coffee,” she said, her eyes glinting as she placed one of the iced Americanos in front of Scully on the table before settling into her chair.

“Thank you,” Dana smiled at Stella before taking a sip of the ice cold, unadulterated beverage. She kept eye contact with Stella as she sighed in contentment. Stella watched her intently, the smile never leaving her face.

“I assume you feel as justified about our theory as I do, given the results,” Dana said gently, returning to their topic of conversation as she set the cup back down in front of her.

“I do. I’ve gone over the case notes countless times to see if I’d missed something. But we have nothing,” Stella said, averting her gaze to her own coffee. “It’s been nineteen days and we still have nothing.”

“Shared paternity isn’t nothing,” Scully countered, raising an eyebrow.

“It could have been anything. A one night stand, a rape, an affair. The detectives working the Smith case inquired about a boyfriend in their initial interviews with friends and family - no one knew anything. Or at least they didn’t say,” Stella said cooly, but Scully detected an exasperated undertone in her voice.

“Anything that suggests the two women knew each other?” Scully asked.

“I’ve already spoken with DCI Hunt, she’s still in the process of interviewing, but so far, no, and no suggestions of a boyfriend, either,” Stella said.

“I requested the Clark case file as soon as you called, but I haven’t yet had a chance to go over them. Needed to go through the chain of command. I should have them all by end of business today,’ Stella said. “The evidence that these murders are linked is there. We just need to find the father of these children. He’s our guy, I know it.”

“The evidence that paternity is linked is there. But what if whoever killed these women is not the father?” Dana said.

“That’s a possibility, but it’s not very likely.” Stella said.

“Still, there is a small chance. The first line of inquiry in a femicide should always be the husband or boyfriend, or any ex.” Scully said.

‘Femicide,’ Stella repeated.

“Yes, that’s what it is. A senseless killing of a woman that has no other motives beyond her gender,” Scully stated matter-of-factly.

“And in this case, her reproductive abilities,” Stella quipped before returning her attention to her drink. 

The woman across from her was quiet, seemed pensive, almost melancholy. Stella looked over at her, searched her face for a moment. Dana was calm, but her eyes had glazed over slightly, a storm brewing in them. Stella couldn’t quite detect what was going on behind Dana’s strong façade. Maybe something in their conversation had triggered something. She knew from experience that talking about violence against could throw even the most seasoned professionals in their line of work. When Dana finally caught her looking, the redhead smiled weakly, cleared her throat and said, “Evil comes not from monsters, but from men.”

It hadn’t escaped her that Dana was as guarded as she was, carefully choosing words, not revealing anything about her personal life. She recognized this guardedness, had put up a similar shield over the years. It was a necessity in both their professions, but especially vital for herself, as she had the tendency to dive too deep, empathize with the victims too much. She lowered her shield whenever it felt appropriate in a particular case, but she never lost her grip on the enarmes.

Stella took a moment to compose herself before she spoke. “I got into this job to protect people from that evil. And then I became obsessed with investigating it,” she stated, and contemplatively played with the straw in her cup before drinking from it. Her eyes found Dana’s across the table as she added: “When I see something that intrigues me, a mystery to solve, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s my constant focus.” 

To her surprise, Dana held her gaze. “I’ve spent my life looking for justice. Looking for the truth,” the redhead said. “I believe science provides the answers to all questions.” Dana’s eyes were intensely blue, even in the shade, and Stella felt them bore into her own. She fleetingly wondered if Scully had caught the meaning behind what she had just said to her. If she had, she certainly wasn’t giving it away. 

“If I’ve learned anything in all my years as a detective, it’s that you just have to know where to look,” Stella acquiesced, and let her fingers run around the edge of the cup to keep them occupied.

Scully chuckled as she bit on her straw before taking a large sip, her eyes darting up to Stella’s.

“What?” Stella asked, furrowing her eyebrows questioningly. There it was again, she thought. That utterly mesmerizing chuckle.

“Nothing. I just …” Scully started, “that’s basically been my mantra for decades.”

“Has it really?” Stella asked. “You’d make a good detective yourself, Dana,” she stated, the corners of her mouth curling upward.

Scully huffed a laugh. “I actually used to work in law enforcement,” she said. She saw Stella’s eyebrows lift in interest, her eyes giving her a silent invitation to continue.

“I was recruited into the FBI right after my residency. Spent almost a decade on active duty. And I did a lot of the autopsies on our field cases.”

“Violent Crimes?” Stella asked.

Scully shook her head. “No. My partner and I specialized in unexplained cases,” she replied resolutely. She’d used this phrase as the explanation of her job countless times before, avoiding the words X-File and paranormal any time she could. By now, she even managed to make the word ‘partner’ sound neutral.

“That sounds …” Stella paused for a second, “ominous.” At the mention of the word partner, Stella’s gaze flitted to Dana’s hand resting on the table to check for a ring. There still wasn’t one, and she was surprised by the relief she felt. Even with her bed partners, she was disinterested in whether they were single or not, because she liked to keep things light. She preferred it if they weren’t single, in fact, because that always made it a much cleaner getaway for her. It irked her to no end just how interested she was in finding out whether Dana was attached to anyone.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Dana said before taking another sip of coffee.

“I’d like to hear that long story, if you’re willing to tell it,” Stella said, her eyes fixed on Scully’s. “Maybe over dinner sometime?” The pathologist sitting across from her looked ethereally beautiful in the shade of the parasol, and Stella couldn’t deny she was immensely attracted to her. But it wasn’t just a physical attraction. Stella had hung onto her every word, and with every detail she found out about this woman, she was more intrigued by Dana. And somehow, her desire to get to know Dana was much greater than her desire to get her into bed.

Scully held her gaze for a moment, smiling: “Dinner sounds nice.” 


End file.
